


Small Lessons in Self-Discovery

by luckie_dee



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckie_dee/pseuds/luckie_dee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for <a href="http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/43590.html?thread=57707078">this prompt</a> on the GKM: <i>I want Kurt and Blaine not long after they finally get together, when they're slowly moving beyond only kissing and starting to actually touch each other. And when they do, they discover that one of them has really sensitive nipples when he's turned on, which the other boy is fascinated by and takes advantage of often. Do want: One of the boys (K or B, though B preferred) getting really, really turned on from having his nipples played with. Possibly able to come from it alone.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Nipple play, masturbation, frotting, blink-and-you'll-miss-it comeplay, biting/marking. When I started this fic, I intended it to be largely canon compliant, but I probably wandered fairly significantly from that. Ignores real life Lima/Westerville geography.

Kissing Kurt is amazing.

Even when it shouldn’t be amazing — when there’s breath that’s less than fresh, or when things don’t line up right and noses and teeth crash together, or when neck and back muscles are getting twisted all out of their natural shapes — it still is. On top of that, it seems like there’s something new to learn every time, and that just makes it better.

The way Kurt paying attention to his ears makes Blaine squirm and melt. (Most of the spots behind and underneath work too.)

How Kurt balls his fists against Blaine’s back when Blaine sucks on his tongue.

It’s one wonderful surprise after another, and Blaine’s confident that there are many more to come.

*

It’s a hot, lazy afternoon, a portent of the summer that’s waiting just around the corner. Blaine’s audition for Six Flags had been disposed of the day before, and the next marks the beginning of his last full week of school for the year. McKinley will be in session for a little longer than that, but Kurt’s still riding his New York high and doesn’t seem to care.

They’re at Blaine’s house. The air conditioner should be on, but it’s not, because his mother had refused to run it after she discovered that his father hasn’t changed the filter in at least five years. He still hasn’t picked up a new one from the store, so the inside of the house is bordering on tropical. Burt has the air conditioning working fine at Kurt’s house, but Blaine’s had still won out because it had the advantage of being empty. Catching Kurt’s house at a time when it isn’t teeming with people is a trick.

It had all started out innocently enough: lying side by side on an old sheet that Blaine had spread on the living room floor under the ceiling fan, a marathon of some distant season (”cycle,” Kurt corrects him) of _America’s Next Top Model_ playing low in the background, sweating glasses of lemonade on hand. They end up kissing — not that it’s any surprise. It doesn’t take much for them to end up kissing lately; after all, they’re young and in love (officially now, for over two days).

This time it’s Blaine’s fault. He’d watched as Kurt had taken a long swallow of his drink and carefully balanced his glass on the carpeting, and then he’d swooped in, wanting to know if Kurt’s mouth would taste sour-sweet, like lemons and sugar. It does at first, and his lips even hold the tiniest chill for a split-second, but then none of that matters anymore, because Kurt relaxes into the touch and it’s them _kissing_ , not just once but over and over again. It’s not the most comfortable; they’re propped up on elbows, facing each other, with Blaine’s hand cupping Kurt’s skull and Kurt’s hand warm and heavy over the thin fabric of Blaine’s (very stylish) t-shirt at his waist. It’s amazing.

Blaine feels kind of giddy with the prospect of the whole afternoon alone with Kurt like this, and he breathes “I love you” into Kurt’s mouth, because he can now. Kurt’s lips stretch for a moment in a smile, then he whispers it back before tightening his grip on Blaine’s side and plunging his tongue into Blaine’s mouth. Blaine can’t help but let out a muffled groan in response.

It gets heated then, figuratively and literally. The fan overhead does nothing to dispel the sweat gathering around Blaine’s hairline or the dampness under the back of his shirt. He’s sweltering under the hard, humid press of Kurt’s lips, the tangle of their ankles, the alternating  
and breathy sounds that Kurt is making. Even though he doesn’t want to, he pulls back a little. “It’s really hot.”

Kurt arches an eyebrow at him. “Yeah?”

Blaine laughs. “Well, yeah. But I mean… temperature wise.”

“Hottest day of the year so far,” Kurt muses, his fingers moving and tickling over the dip of Blaine’s waist. Blaine squirms at first, but he goes stock still when he realizes that Kurt’s hand is scrabbling _down_ and the hem of his shirt is coming _up_. The tips of Kurt’s fingers brush his skin there, barely touching but it’s still the first time ever, and he adds, “in which case…”

His fingers skate a bit farther up.

Blaine knows his eyes are round in his face. “Really?”

Kurt nods. He’s holding Blaine’s eyes, but his cheeks are a brilliant pink.

“You too?” Blaine says, not sure if he’s asking or expressing disbelief.

Maybe both, because Kurt just nods again and then they’re both scrambling to sit up. Blaine reaches for the bottom of his own shirt, because somehow it feels like the safer of two awkward options, and he only hesitates for a brief moment of eye contact with Kurt before he peels it up and off.

When he refocuses, Kurt is looking down at his own shirt in his hands, and if Blaine isn’t mistaken, the expression on Kurt’s face says that he really, really wants to fold it. After a few seconds’ hesitation, Kurt visibly clenches his jaw tosses the shirt off to the side. He glances over in Blaine's general direction, but he’s nervously not quite meeting Blaine’s eyes. And then — even though Blaine’s dick is indicating approval of and plenty of interest in Kurt’s long, lean, filling-out torso — it’s really more strange than sexy, sitting across from each other on a sheet in Blaine’s living room floor and not touching anywhere.

Blaine can almost feel Kurt curling in on himself as he says, “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

So Blaine tears his eyes away from Kurt’s chest and reaches for his hands. “Hey. Neither do I. I guess we’ll just have to figure it out together.”

He leans over to kiss Kurt, forcing himself to keep his touches soft and light, and Kurt smiles at him when they break apart, but he’s sneaking peeks down at Blaine’s body too. Blaine can’t deny it — it feels really nice, and he’s warm and flushed when he leans forward.

“Hmmm,” Blaine murmurs, gently nosing along Kurt’s jaw. “What if we start… here?” He drags kisses down the side of Kurt’s throat and then around the base of his neck, becoming more brazen as he dips his tongue into the hollows there to chase the taste of salt. Kurt’s shaking minutely and his breath is coming faster when Blaine pulls himself away. “Now you,” he adds, letting his head drop to the side.

“Blaine,” Kurt says, his tone almost scolding. It’s enough to let Blaine know that he’s still feeling skittish.

Hell, Blaine is too, but he just tilts his head to further expose his throat and gives Kurt a coy look. “You don’t want to kiss my neck?” he asks innocently.

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he’s already tilting in, and he traces his lips down the tendon there, sucking lightly on the skin — sometimes Blaine wishes they could leave marks, but they’ve never kissed each other where they could be hidden before. Kurt’s mouth is getting closer and closer to places that would definitely fall under his shirt, though, and Blaine lets his head fall back and his eyes droop shut as Kurt works his way around from the juncture of one shoulder to the other. Blaine’s tingling everywhere and already fully hard when Kurt runs his cheek up the opposite side of his neck and whispers in his ear, “What next?”

Collarbones are, but Blaine doesn’t bother to say so. He just dips forward to work his mouth against Kurt’s, even daring to nip, which makes Kurt jump and gasp. Kurt rests one shaky hand back on Blaine’s waist. Blaine lifts his head to give Kurt his turn —

And then.

Then Kurt — rather boldly, Blaine thinks — runs that hand up Blaine’s chest to adjust the angle of his shoulder, and on the way, his fingers graze lightly over Blaine’s nipple.

And a shiver zaps all the way down Blaine’s spine while his breath leaves him in an audible huff, bowing his shoulders.

He gets a second to blink into the air over Kurt’s head before Kurt’s mouth lands on his skin, and that turns out to be a sufficient distraction, because he’s pretty sure that Kurt — as though he’s reading Blaine’s mind — is planting a hickey over the inner point of his right collarbone. He flails one hand up to anchor it at the back of Kurt's head and groans heavily, nuzzling into the damp hair at Kurt's temple.

When Kurt seems satisfied with his handiwork, he leans away from Blaine again, resting back on his hands, all but presenting himself. He watches Blaine watch him and cocks an eyebrow, and okay, maybe he is presenting himself. He’s flushed down to his chest, and whether it’s from the blazing afternoon or arousal, Blaine’s not sure. He looks at the place where the blush fades away speculatively, remembering Kurt’s hand skimming up his chest, and almost topples forward to kiss his way from Kurt’s collarbone to his nipple. His breath hitches a little when he gets there, and he drags his tongue over it with interest.

Kurt reacts, but it isn’t as extreme as Blaine is expecting: he whines and twists a bit under Blaine’s mouth and curls a hand around the back of Blaine’s neck. Blaine is a little surprised that Kurt doesn’t do more, he isn’t deterred. He likes the way the nub feels under his tongue when he licks flat across it or circles around it. He likes Kurt’s fingers flexing in his hair when he purses his lips to suck on it. The noises Kurt’s making shift into a higher key when he does, so Blaine indulges for a moment before releasing him with one last, lingering lick.

He glances up at Kurt’s face, his head thick and swimming at what’s coming next, but Kurt’s eyes are downcast, fixing a spot on Blaine’s chest that his mouth quickly finds. Blaine arches into the touch and then Kurt’s working his way down. The closer he gets, the more Blaine feels like he’s choking on his own breath, and then… and then…

Kurt’s tongue touches his nipple first, lightly, almost tentatively, and then his mouth drops down to cover it in a sucking kiss that Blaine feels all the way to his cock. It forces a shocked “oh!” out of him, and he brings both hands up this time to clutch at Kurt wherever they land — on his bare arms and shoulders, it turns out, and they tighten there. Probably too much, because Kurt is drawing away slightly, releasing a ragged gust of air over Blaine’s chest. “That… feels good?” he asks hesitantly, his bravado having apparently been chased back into hiding.

“Yes,” Blaine rasps out. He loosens his fingers, trying to making his hold more of an encouraging squeeze than a death grip.

“Oh,” Kurt says, contemplating Blaine’s skin inches from his face. Blaine is fairly sure that he doesn’t breathe again until Kurt brings his lips back down, where they land disappointingly _next to_ Blaine’s nipple, but then start moving laterally across his chest toward the other one. Blaine lets out a whimper as soon as he realizes where it’s all going, even though Kurt hasn’t even reached his sternum. He forces himself not to dig his fingernails back into Kurt’s skin.

Even though he tries to keep his touch mild and his reactions in check, he can tell there’s a certain amount of hesitance in Kurt’s actions, born out of nervousness, Blaine hopes, and not — thinking that Blaine is a total weirdo for liking this so much. Blaine is almost wondering himself if it’s some kind of strange fluke, but as soon as Kurt’s mouth arrives at his other nipple, he knows it’s not. Kurt parts his lips softly over it, leading with an exploratory swipe of his tongue. “Huh,” Blaine breathes out sharply, the sound rolling into a groan as Kurt brings his mouth into a tight, damp ring and sucks.

Everything is hot and hazy and damp then: the sluggish thoughts in his spinning head, the stifling summer-like air, Kurt’s mouth working on his skin. It’s still a bit tentative, but everything Kurt does — the brushes and twists of his tongue, the suction, the way it just seems to get wetter and wetter — sends fresh jolts of electricity through Blaine’s body. His eyes fall shut, and he’s lost in the sensation, panting out uneven breaths and high-pitched whines, Kurt pulling hard at his skin… and then moving away.

Blaine starts to protest, but before he can even dig a coherent word out of his addled brain, Kurt slides his head up and away.

Which makes his bottom row of teeth scrape over Blaine’s nipple where it stands out stiff from his chest.

Blaine’s entire body spasms and he digs his teeth hard into his lower lip, taken completely off guard by how close he actually is to coming in his pants. He doesn't. Barely.

He's not sure if Kurt notices or not. He's kissing deliberately up the flat of Blaine's chest, and then over his tense neck. He finally draws back to look at Blaine with eyes that are equal parts burning and cautious. “Are you okay?”

“…yeah,” Blaine replies, gaining some measure of control over himself. “Yeah. Very okay.”

“So…” Kurt says, and there’s definitely a hint of playfulness returning. “Now what?”

Blaine stares at Kurt for a minute, his brain far too muddy to continue the game he’d been playing. He lunges instead, all but tackling Kurt back onto the sheet. He doesn’t allow himself to end up completely on top of Kurt — he still knows that would be pushing things too far, too fast — and when they settle, they’re side by side on the sheet, legs tangled but hips apart. They’re kissing as frantically as they ever have, only this time, they’re also grabbing at the bare skin that’s available, and Blaine wouldn’t be surprised to find that he’s actually, literally melting from the heat of it. In some remote corner of his mind, he wonders if maybe this is too fast, but Kurt’s responding eagerly.

As the moments rush on, Blaine realizes that it might be too fast for him, not because it’s making him uncomfortable, but because he’s _so very turned on_. He’s been painfully hard ever since Kurt’s mouth had been sealed around his nipple, so when Kurt suddenly bites into the thick of his lower lip, Blaine trembles instantly too close to the edge. He groans and pushes away, knowing that they’re going to have to slow down soon if he wants to slow down at all. “I — I need a minute,” he gasps.

Kurt doesn’t protest, letting Blaine go as they both flop back onto the sheet and stare up at the fan. “I’m sorry,” Kurt says, his voice a bit rough. “Was that —”

“No,” Blaine interjects quickly. Without looking, he lets his hand crawl across the sheet until it finds Kurt’s. They lace their fingers together, their skin tacky. “Did I…?”

“No,” Kurt says immediately, squeezing Blaine’s hand a little harder. “But maybe we should, um — go back to the show for a while? I think this is the episode where one of them falls down the stairs and then gets knocked off the runway by a giant gong.”

“Sounds great,” Blaine says. He tips his head to the side to give Kurt a fond smile. Kurt’s face is still practically scarlet, but the corners of his lips turn up shyly. After a few seconds, he rolls away, letting go of Blaine’s hand as he finds his shirt and tugs it back on. Blaine follows suit, albeit a bit reluctantly.

The rest of the afternoon goes much more according to plan. They gulp down more lemonade, watch Tyra crush the hopes and dreams of one young woman after another, and laugh at each other’s attempts at smizing.

But Blaine definitely doesn’t forget.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Nipple play, masturbation, frotting, blink-and-you'll-miss-it comeplay, biting/marking. When I started this fic, I intended it to be largely canon compliant, but I probably wandered fairly significantly from that. Ignores real life Lima/Westerville geography.

As it turns out, Blaine isn’t even able to forget about it for more than a few hours. He mulls over what had happened that night as he lies in his bed — or, more accurately, _on_ his bed. It’s still too warm to even cover up with a sheet, so he’s kicked all of the covers down until they’re hanging halfway off the bottom and spilling onto the floor. Although he generally prefers to wear matched pajama sets, he’s down to a pair of loose boxer shorts and nothing else. There’s an oscillating fan set up on a chair next to his bed, but it’s not accomplishing much except lethargically blowing warm air over his skin. He _had_ been studying for his American History exam, but he’s long since given up.

It’s much more pleasant — though confusing — to remember the way he’d spent his afternoon. He’s almost afraid that he’s dreamed the whole thing up, but there’s a modest, purple mark on his collarbone now that suggests otherwise. He’d enjoyed receiving it as much as he’d always suspected he would, but the rest of it had been… surprising.

_That’s probably an understatement_ , Blaine thinks, tilting his chin to look down at his nipples, lying flat and uninterested on his chest in the close heat of his room. They’re kind of small, he knows, but apparently that doesn’t mean anything when it comes to how they’re able to make him feel.

Blaine raises his hand to run his thumb over one experimentally. It hardens a little, but not much else happens, despite the fact that his cock had already been showing signs of life at the mere memory of that afternoon. He continues thumbing over the nipple absently, something starting to tingle along under his skin when he remembers how Kurt’s fingers (and his mouth and his tongue and Blaine has to shift his hips on the bed) had felt there earlier. He shudders when he replays the scrape of Kurt’s teeth in his mind, and inspired by the memory, Blaine shifts his hand to pinch instead of rub. It causes a little shot of pleasure that bows his back an inch off the bed while his dick twitches. Okay, that’s… that’s definitely something.

He’s never really done anything with his nipples when he masturbates, despite the fact that he definitely doesn’t limit his touches to his cock anymore. He’s been daringly reaching around to the back of his body for a while now, and he’s spent a countless amount of time rubbing the skin between his balls and his asshole, which feels almost like he’s touching himself on the inside, even though he’s not. His nipples, though, he’s left alone, always more than content to skip ahead to the main event. Apparently, he’s been missing out.

Pressing his eyes closed to focus, Blaine gets a better hold on the nub of flesh — definitely harder now and sharply sensitive — to squeeze his thumb and forefinger together and _twist_.

He gasps, his hips coming up this time, then dropping sharply back to the mattress when the shock of it still his hand. An echo of the sensation remains, a lingering, tingling ache. It’s fading, but before he loses it completely, Blaine darts his hand up and does it again. And again. A little harder each time, maybe harder than he should, but it makes him arch his neck back into the pillow and whine.

After one more rough pinch, the lack of stimulation on his cock is suddenly almost unbearable. Keeping one hand at his nipple, he snakes the other down and wiggles his first two fingers through the slit at the front of his boxer shorts. It’s not really enough, but he can rub the pads of them up and down the shaft. He gets his thumb inside too and teases over the head, spreading the moisture there. At the same time, he tweaks his nipple again, and the combination makes his entire body writhe.

Dangerously sure that he could come in the matter of a minute or two, Blaine yanks his hand out of his underwear and lets the other flop across his ribs, not quite ready for it to be over so quickly. He stares vacantly at the ceiling, gulping shaky breaths as the fan slides from his face toward his feet. It actually helps now, because the air catches on the places where sweat is beading his skin. It makes him shiver.

It also pings something in Blaine’s brain, and before he’s even thought it all the way through, he’s got two fingers in his mouth. He works them over quickly and sloppily with his tongue, worrying his nipple with the other hand to keep it stiff. When the fan reverses course and starts crawling back up his legs, he drags his fingers out of his mouth to circle messily over and around the hardened flesh, coating it with saliva. He feels a little ridiculous doing it, but he rolls toward the fan anyway, and when it passes over his chest, Blaine shivers from his head to his toes. He’s rock hard against his thigh.

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, flopping onto back again and raising his hips to shove his underwear down. He kicks them off the end of the bed and plants his feet against the mattress, but he doesn’t grab for his cock right away. He goes back to his chest instead, reaching across to the other nipple this time. He attacks it with gusto, pressing it tightly between the pad of his thumb and the knuckle of his first finger, rolling the flesh and bringing it quickly to stiffness. The hard pinches send a muscle-weakening pleasure through his entire body, and he squirms his ass right off the bed again. Panting, he finally lowers his free hand to form a loose fist around his dick, shallowly rocking his pelvis so that it’s more of a tease than anything else.

He moans quietly, confident that the sound won’t carry over the whirring of the fan, continuing to twist his nipple between his thumb and forefinger. When he pulls his fingers away, it’s with a sharp tug that makes him grunt. He does it again, and he can't help his hand tightening spasmodically at his cock while he thrusts up harder into it. God, he really needs more hands for this. Or Kurt. He imagines that it’s Kurt’s teeth dragging at his nipple instead — on purpose this time, hard and stinging — and that’s it: a dam breaks somewhere, and all teasing is over. He digs his toes into the mattress and sets a quick, even pace of fucking into the now-tight curl of his fist. His other hand flies wildly from one side of his chest to the other, pinching and tweaking here, pressing and scraping bluntly with his nails there.

The orgasm builds fast and electric, and Blaine lets himself fall toward it without hesitation, his body coiling on the bed and dripping with sweat. It’s more than that: he _strains_ toward it, working desperately, until it breaks over him, maybe even harder than he comes when he’s worked a finger inside himself. It feels like a clap of thunder, a forceful crash that just rolls on and on. He digs his teeth deep into his bottom lip, confident that the noises he wants to make would be perfectly audible to the rest of the house, fan or no. The force of it shoots come all the way up his chest, and he accidentally rubs some of it into his skin as he pinches and rolls one of his nipples a few more times, drawing out every bit of sensation he can before letting his spent cock fall back against his stomach. He flops uselessly against the bed then, his breath heaving out of him, his skin sticky with sweat and heat and semen.

It takes long minutes for his mind to start clearing, and even when it does, he feels too boneless and weak to actually move. “Oooookay,” Blaine whispers to himself as he blindly flops a hand toward his bedside table, searching by feel for the box of tissues there. He manages to get a few in his fist, swiping them over his chest, and he jumps again at the rough whisper over his nipples, still sensitive after the abuse they’d taken. His dick makes every effort to twitch to life again, and Blaine hisses.

He's almost tempted to keep going, but instead, he cleans himself up without further incident. After he tosses the used tissues in the trash, he flips off his light and turns onto the other side of the bed. It takes him away from the fan, but he’s hoping to find a cooler stretch of sheets. Exhausted from his orgasm, he slides quickly toward sleep, but he feels a lot less confused than he did before.

Because, yeah, he’s pretty sure that his nipples are a _thing_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Nipple play, masturbation, frotting, blink-and-you'll-miss-it comeplay, biting/marking. When I started this fic, I intended it to be largely canon compliant, but I probably wandered fairly significantly from that. Ignores real life Lima/Westerville geography.

Three days later, Kurt’s back at Blaine’s house, because why study in separate places when they can study right in the very same room? The one in question is Blaine’s bedroom, but sadly, because they’re in the thick of finals, they really _are_ studying (as opposed to “studying”). Kurt’s propped up against a pile of pillows at the head of the bed, doing sample math problems to prepare for a test the next day. Blaine is sprawled out next to him, revising his final paper for English Lit. Again. He’s already been through it twice, but it’s worth one-third of his grade in the class, so he just wants to make sure everything is perfect, but —

“Ugh! I don’t care about gender roles and gender swapping in Shakespeare’s plays anymore!” he bursts out, tossing his pen down and dropping his forehead to the bed.

“We don’t even read Shakespeare until next year,” Kurt comments over the scratch of his pencil. “They write a curriculum like that and hire a Spanish teacher who can’t even speak the language, and still they wonder why McKinley is one of the lowest ranked high schools in the state when it comes to academics.”

Blaine snorts and turns to rest his cheek on his elbow so that he can look up at Kurt. “How’s the practice test going?”

“As well as can be expected,” Kurt replies, completely focused on his work. There’s a little crease between his eyebrows.

“Hey,” Blaine says, reaching out to nudge his leg. “You should take a break.”

That gets enough of Kurt’s attention that he looks at Blaine over the top of his paper. “Hmmm?”

“Take a study break with me,” Blaine implores, holding Kurt’s gaze steadily. He hadn’t even meant it like _that_ , but something in the air is shifting around them already, and Blaine has been sort of… well, itchy… ever since Kurt showed up. There had definitely been some blushing and stuttering at the front door, and even more when they’d gotten to Blaine’s room and he’d shut the door behind them (his mother is at her book club — or, more accurately, her wine-drinking club — and his father is holed up in his home office and will neither know nor care if the door is closed), but it had passed fairly quickly when they’d gotten down to homework.

The awkwardness is definitely a distant memory now, with the sizzle building steadily between them and seemingly tugging one side of Kurt’s mouth up. “Well, I suppose ten minutes couldn’t hurt,” he says innocently, setting his papers on the bedside table. Blaine tosses his aside and starts crawling up the bed while Kurt scoots down. They meet in a smiling kiss that gets deep right away; there’s lots of tongue and each of their hands sliding into the other’s hair. Blaine pushes Kurt gently back so that he’s sort of hovering over Kurt's torso from the side — it keeps his hips away, but it feels like so much more than when they’re just next to each other.

It’s different than the last time: the heat wave had broken the previous afternoon in a bout of wild storms, but Blaine’s mother still has the air conditioning on — probably just because she can now. It’s a mark of how grossly his father must be buried in his work that he hasn’t turned it back off. As a result, the air temperature is comfortable, so there’s no imperative need for them to take their shirts off. But it’s not like Blaine would _mind_.

In fact, he pretty much can’t get it off his mind. He drags one hand slowly down to the buttons of Kurt’s vest, which he’s wearing over a short-sleeved t-shirt that reveals his arms deliciously.

When he thumbs the first button, Blaine’s surprised to find that his nerves are suddenly choking up his throat — he can say now that they’ve done this before, of course, but what if last time really only had been about the temperature? Well, that would mean that they can only fool around with their clothes off during the summer, which seems kind of ridiculous. But what if Kurt has decided since then that he’s not comfortable with it?

Blaine pulls back from Kurt’s mouth to gulp and whisper, “Can I?”

“Yes,” Kurt murmurs into his mouth, making a sudden fist in the back of Blaine’s polo shirt, which pulls it free from the waistband of his pants.

With a whimper, Blaine returns eagerly to kissing, managing to fumble open the few buttons on the front of the vest with one hand. Kurt lifts up and Blaine leans away so that he can shrug it off. Still propped on one elbow, Kurt plucks lightly at the front of Blaine’s polo. “You can… you too.” The shyness is back, but Kurt’s face is determined.

“Yeah, okay,” Blaine breathes. He has to move a little farther away to shed his shirt, but before he tugs it over his head, he sees that Kurt is doing the same. They lunge back together as soon as they can, and Blaine’s sort of halfway lying across Kurt again, which means that there’s a lot of their skin pressing together, warm and close. Blaine groans.

Kurt kisses him once more on the lips, then reaches around Blaine’s ear to kiss there too and make him shiver. “I like this,” he says quietly.

“Yeah?” Blaine whispers back.

Kurt drops his head back to the bed. “I love you.”

Blaine smiles. “I love you, too.” He plants a lingering kiss on Kurt’s mouth, but then drags himself away to start working down Kurt’s throat. At the same time, he draws one hand up over the flat planes of Kurt’s stomach, taking his time to revel in the feeling of bare skin under his palm. His fingers bump up over Kurt’s ribs and curl around the outer edge of his pectoral muscle, which leaves his thumb drifting near Kurt’s nipple.

And Blaine can’t help himself; he’s curious. He rubs across it, using firm pressure, then flicks and presses a little. Kurt keens, but he seems more interested in smashing Blaine’s face into the place where he’s kissing and licking near the juncture of Kurt’s neck and his shoulder. “No, uh… no marks,” Kurt gasps out like he’s just remembering it himself, releasing the pressure on the back of Blaine’s head.

Blaine reels back and gives him a cheeky grin. “You mean like this one?” he asks, pointing to the fading hickey on his own collarbone from the weekend before.

Kurt stares at it with round eyes, having apparently missed it earlier. “Oh. I did that.”

“Yup,” Blaine confirms, leaning down to give a brief, playful bite to Kurt’s collarbone.

When he raises his head again, Kurt repeats his “oh” and starts pushing Blaine back. Blaine frantically starts trying to figure out where he went wrong, but then he realizes that Kurt isn’t pushing him _away_ , he’s reversing their positions so that Kurt is (partially) on top, and okay. Okay. That works.

And then he slings one leg over Blaine’s thighs. He’s still holding himself up and away from Blaine’s body, but it still _really, really works_.

It all goes a little fuzzy then: Kurt’s kissing him and licking him and even biting lightly here and there, and Blaine’s touching every inch of Kurt’s bare back in turn. Kurt’s mouth does find one nipple and then the other, and it’s every bit as glorious and shocking as Blaine remembers, but… it’s over really fast, and when Kurt pulls away — kissing him long and lingering on the mouth and then rolling off of him — Blaine feels strange and achy and desperate.

Oblivious, Kurt playfully whispers, “I think that’s been more than ten minutes,” and pushes himself back up the bed to return to his position against the pillows. He’s reaching to the side to retrieve his shirt when Blaine says, “wait.” Kurt freezes and looks over curiously.

“Will you… I mean, I was wondering if…” Blaine sits up and shifts nervously around on the bed, casting his gaze down. There just isn’t a good way to ask: _Will you suck on my nipples? And bite them?_ His face heats up just from the thought.

“What is it?” Kurt asks softly, drawing Blaine’s eyes back up. Kurt's concerned and curious and slightly wary, but underneath is the same warmth that’s always there for him, and it makes Blaine feel marginally more calm.

“Will you do something for me?” he says finally.

“Like what?”

And he still doesn’t have the words, so instead, he cautiously kneels up next to Kurt. He’s shaking a little as he slings one leg over Kurt’s lap to half-sit, half-hover just above his knees, balancing with the help of his hands on Kurt’s shoulders — he hopes it’s okay, especially since Kurt was basically straddling him a few minutes ago. “Just —” he says, and jerks forward, basically shoving his chest into Kurt’s face with his nipple at Kurt’s mouth level. “This,” he whispers, too embarrassed to check Kurt’s reaction.

The next three seconds of silence are terrible.

Then Kurt says, “Oh. Yeah, um, okay.” Blaine thinks that underneath the uncertainty, Kurt’s voice sounds a touch high and excited, but he doesn’t dwell on it because Kurt’s hand is sneaking up behind Blaine’s shoulder blade to push him forward. When Blaine looks down, it’s to see Kurt’s pink lips closing softly around his nipple. Blaine groans in response as the pressure on his back increases, and Kurt’s free hand drifts down to land lightly on his denim-clad thigh.

At first, Kurt’s mouth is tender on his skin. He runs the flat of his tongue over the spot, circling it briefly before planting a kiss there. He presses his lips in a widening circle around where Blaine’s flesh has hardened, then returns to it to suckle lightly.

It’s sensuous. It’s wonderful. It’s… not exactly what Blaine needs. But he’s still not really sure how to ask for what he _does_. He tries to find a way as Kurt moves to the other side of his chest to repeat his ministrations, but it’s difficult to focus with gooseflesh breaking out across his skin and Kurt’s hand flexing against the tense muscles in his leg. Blaine is definitely hard — and he keeps his body tilted so there's little risk of making Kurt all-to-aware of his erection — but with no friction on his cock and Kurt being maddeningly gentle with his mouth, it’s all winding him up into an exceptional level of frustration.

“Kurt,” he finally mutters, squeezing his eyes tight shut. “You can — don’t be afraid to… make it hurt, a little.”

The seal of Kurt’s lips breaks while his hands spasm on Blaine’s body, the one on his back nudging him marginally farther forward. It seems like Kurt is going to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he makes a small noise and flies forward to suck Blaine’s nipple back into his mouth, and Blaine feels the tentative, sharp pressure of Kurt’s teeth a second later.

“Yes,” he says, more of a moan than a word. “Please.”

Kurt abandons Blaine’s leg to cradle his back with both hands, arching Blaine’s chest more severely toward his mouth. He gets bolder: his lips form a wide halo around Blaine’s nipple this time, and he sucks to tease Blaine’s flesh up hard, and then his teeth sink down and scrape off. Blaine’s fingers gouge deep into the graceful bones of Kurt’s shoulders as he shudders.

“Harder,” he whispers.

And _oh god_ he probably shouldn’t have said that, because Kurt still seems kind of — like he’s digging even deeper into Blaine’s back and biting again, the pressure stinging and scorching in a direct line to his dick. Blaine hisses and his hands twitch up to curl into the back of Kurt’s hair.

“Good?” Kurt asks, his voice barely audible. He gives Blaine’s nipple a soothing kiss, but he doesn’t move very far away or look up.

Blaine drops one arm to wrap it around Kurt’s neck and presses his lips briefly to Kurt’s temple. “Really good.” And because Kurt doesn’t seem put off by his requests, Blaine shifts to the side and adds, “Um… the other one?” He’s already flushed from arousal, but it feels like his face flames anyway.

Wordlessly, Kurt kisses a messy line across his chest. His nips Blaine’s flesh again — not over his nipple this time, but beside it. Then just below that. Then he’s working his way around the outer edge of Blaine’s areola, sometimes biting sharply, sometimes licking, sometimes sucking. It’s teasing, but it’s _really good_ teasing, and before long, Blaine’s panting and whimpering, using every scrap of concentration he can muster to keep himself from grinding into Kurt’s lap. There’s a quick, breathless beat of anticipation when Kurt completes his circuit before he sinks his teeth into the stiff nipple. Hard. Blaine manages not to cry out, but he loses his battle with the shaking muscles in his legs, and he drops heavily onto Kurt’s lap.

It’s _Blaine_ who pulls back then, but only to hold Kurt’s head steady while he jerks his body to position his other nipple back in front of Kurt’s mouth. Kurt goes to work on it eagerly, repeating the torturous game of ring-around-the-rosy, but with far less finesse. Blaine’s almost afraid that he’s suffocating Kurt with how tightly he’s holding on, his arms and hands and fingers coiled around Kurt’s neck and skull, keeping Kurt jammed up against Blaine’s chest. He can’t seem to loosen his grip, though, and Kurt’s clutching him almost as tightly, tugging on his back even though it’s _really_ not necessary.

This time, when he’s done circling around Blaine’s nipple, Kurt all but attacks it: biting, sucking, laving, stiffening Blaine’s entire body while blood rushes in his ears and stars dance in front of his eyes from how he's clenching them shut because —

Because he’s coming. _Oh god_. He’s having an actual orgasm with Kurt’s arms around him and he can’t stop it. It’s already happening; his muscles are jerking and all he can do is muffle his cry with his teeth and ride out the feeling for moments that stretch on and on and on… until he slumps his face down against Kurt’s damp hair. Kurt, for his part, has gone completely motionless, his mouth still touching Blaine’s skin. His hands are frozen stiff on Blaine’s back.

The enormity of what just happened wells rapidly up in Blaine’s mind and he pushes away suddenly. “Oh my god,” he mutters, and then after a glance down at the front of his jeans, repeats it more frantically: “ _Oh my god_.” He scrambles to get under the bedclothes, upsetting his books and papers, and then buries his face in his hands.

He feels Kurt ease away from him slightly. “Um,” he says, voice hoarse, “you just… didn’t you…”

“Yes,” Blaine replies miserably. He peeks out through his fingers and sees that Kurt isn’t watching him and face is almost expressionless, which doesn’t seem like a good sign. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kurt says quickly. He twitches a glance toward Blaine. “It was, uh… kind of my fault, right?”

“I should have stopped you. It just felt so good, and I didn’t _realize_ I… I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Kurt’s voice is strangely flat.

Blaine drops his hands, but keeps his gaze glued to them as they hit the comforter. He doesn’t even look up when he hears Kurt slide his shirt back on, then start to gather his things and slide them into his satchel. “I should probably go soon,” he says. “My dad’ll be upset if I push curfew during finals.”

Blaine sighs. Kurt doesn’t even want to stay in the same room with him, and they’re probably going to have to break up, all because Blaine couldn’t read the signs in his own stupid, traitorous body. “Okay.”

Kurt snaps his bag shut and pauses, standing beside the bed. “Blaine.”

“Yeah?” He inclines his head to the side, but finds that he’s only able to raise his eyes to an undefined point somewhere between Kurt’s elbow and his shoulder.

“ _Blaine_.” It’s more forceful that time, and Blaine looks all the way up. Kurt’s face isn’t calm, exactly, but it’s not anywhere near as distressed as Blaine had been expecting. “I’m not… upset,” Kurt says softly. He leans forward and cups Blaine’s cheek, giving him a chaste kiss. Blaine feels a few of the knots inside his chest unravel. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

Blaine’s actually able to give him a hint of a smile, and it doesn’t feel too forced. “Okay.”

Kurt pauses just inside the door and looks back at him again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Blaine says, but it’s not quite enough to hold back the swell of guilt that washes over him as soon as Kurt is gone. With a groan, Blaine flops back against the bed, but the motion just provides another reminder of what had happened when the mess in his pants shifts. _Well_. That’s enough reason to relocate his wallowing to the shower, where he can wash the shame away, instead of lying in it.

*

When he’s clean and wearing fresh pajamas, Blaine notices that his phone is blinking with a series of messages:

From Kurt: _I promise that I’m not mad_.  
From Kurt: _Are you there?_  
From Kurt: _I hope you’re not ignoring me_.  
From Kurt: _Okay. Well, I hope you’re not mad at me either_.

Blaine can’t help a fond little smile at the screen. He quickly sends back: _I’m not mad at all. Just embarrassed_. He starts to pick up the papers that he’d scattered earlier, and phone chirps not more than thirty seconds later.

From Kurt: _Please don’t be_.

_Easier said than done_ , Blaine responds.

From Kurt: _I know_.  
From Kurt: _I think we should talk tomorrow_.  
From Kurt: _That sounds so ominous. It’s not. I promise_.  
From Kurt: _I love you_.

Blaine is pretty sure that Kurt keeps declaring his love to try and be reassuring, and he sighs, because he's doesn't think that anything is going to help except time. He types out a response, then switches his phone off and climbs into bed, ready to leave the day behind.

To Kurt: _That sounds good. I love you too. Good night_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Nipple play, masturbation, frotting, blink-and-you'll-miss-it comeplay, biting/marking. When I started this fic, I intended it to be largely canon compliant, but I probably wandered fairly significantly from that. Ignores real life Lima/Westerville geography.

Blaine remembers everything before he even finishes blinking awake the next morning, which hardly seems fair. He would have thought he’d get at least a few seconds’ worth of ignorant bliss. Instead, he grumbles as he slaps off his alarm clock, and then his hand falls, as it always does, to his phone beside it. He almost doesn’t want to power it on, but that’s a ridiculous notion: he wouldn’t last for an hour without his phone. Not to mention the fact that Wes will kill him if he isn’t available to help handle any emergencies related to the Warblers’ set for next week’s graduation ceremony.

So Blaine turns the phone on, tossing it down on the bed as it comes to life and taking the opportunity to stretch and rub his eyes. When he picks it up, he sees that there’s a new string of messages — all from Kurt, most sent in an odd burst a little before one in the morning, and then two more from around five AM.

From Kurt: _Blaine, are you still awake?_  
From Kurt: _Good. Then I’m just going to say this now and deal with it later_.  
From Kurt: _I liked it_.  
From Kurt: _I liked making you feel good_.  
From Kurt: _Okay, I said it_.

From Kurt: _Why isn’t there a way to recall text messages? There should be_.  
From Kurt: _Or maybe not. I don’t know. I’ll talk to you later. <3_

Blaine’s heart trips along faster and faster as he reads his way through the texts. When he’s done, he sits up abruptly and — oh, hey, when the fabric of his shirt shifts against his chest, he can definitely feel it brush over his nipples, so apparently they’re still sensitive from the night before. He starts typing before he even thinks through his reply, and before long, he’s sent his own awkward chain of messages:

To Kurt: _I liked it too_.  
To Kurt: _I guess that was probably obvious_.  
To Kurt: _I’m sorry, dumb thing to say_.  
To Kurt: _So I agree, text message recall should be a thing_.

There’s no immediate response, so Blaine drags himself out of bed and into the bathroom for another shower. Even though he doesn’t strictly need to after taking one the previous night and Kurt would lecture him for drying out his skin, he’s always had a hard time waking up in the morning without one. Still bleary and distracted, he strips off his clothing — the rasp of his shirt over his nipples making him shudder briefly — and steps under the water. It’s only then, when he’s starting to lather up with soap, that he looks down and gapes at himself.

Forget one tiny hickey on his collarbone — his upper chest is mottled with marks. There are bruises, there are scrapes, there are even bite marks, and his nipples themselves look raw, half-hard despite the heat from the water. It makes something tingle through him, coiling in his belly and settling at the base of his spine, just to see it all. Tentatively, he brings a hand up to touch the worse of the two — it hurts and it makes him hiss, but it sends blood coursing southward at the same time. It would be easy, so easy, one hand on his cock and one on his chest… but it doesn’t feel right, somehow, not when he and Kurt haven’t sorted everything out yet. He leaves his half-hard dick untouched and, after a single experimental press to one rather impressive hickey, he removes his hand to reach for the shampoo. Setting his eyes resolutely on the far wall, he starts reciting Spanish verb conjugations instead.

*

When Blaine gets back to his room, his phone is blinking.

From Kurt: _Good morning_.  
From Kurt: _Blaine?_  
From Kurt: _Well, I’m glad to know that we’re on the same page_.  
From Kurt: _Forget I said that. How are you today?_

He texts back. _Fine, how are you?_ , steadfastly ignoring the crazy, out-of-nowhere urge to answer something closer to _all marked up, a little sore, and still kind of turned on_. His phone stays silent, so he puts it on his dresser and starts getting dressed. Pulling his undershirt down his chest is torturous — and if he’s being honest, Blaine draws the fabric over his chest a touch slower than usual, indulging a little in the feeling. His nipples are stiff and visible through the thin material, but at least the rest of his uniform will hide the way they refuse to lie flat if anything (including the air) is touching them.

There still aren’t any messages from Kurt by the time he’s done. He frowns at the last set of texts that had come in, and sends _Are we?_ before he goes downstairs to eat breakfast. He leaves his phone where it is, because he’s definitely not ready to talk about this particular topic while he’s sitting at the table with his parents.

*

_I’m fine and are we what?_ is waiting for him when he’s done eating.

_On the same page_ , he responds, all he has time for before he has to grab his bookbag and hightail it out the door to make sure he gets to Dalton on time.

His phone chimes several times from his bag while he’s driving, but Blaine keeps his hands at ten and two until he’s safely parked in the student lot. Even though he only has about three minutes to get inside before the bell, he twists to grab his bag — sending whispers of sensation out from his abused nipples, and _that_ is going to be a problem all day long — and check his messages.

From Kurt: _Aren’t we?_  
From Kurt: _We both liked what happened last night_.  
From Kurt: _Even though it was embarrassing_.

From Wes: _See me immediately after second period regarding key changes_.

From Kurt: _…right?_

Blaine fires a quick _yes sir_ to Wes, which he’ll probably take seriously, and then replies to Kurt. He feels like he should be glad that he and Kurt can admit this much to each other, but he can’t escape the way that everything between them still feels awkward and stilted. He’s pretty sure that he doesn’t do anything to fix it with: _That seems to be the page we’re on. Have to turn off my phone. I have Mr. Dunmeyer 1st period, you know how he is._

Then he switches off his phone and hurries for the door.

*

Blaine doesn’t remember to turn his phone back on until his fourth period study hall. Mr. Dunmeyer has a no-tolerance cell phone policy, his Spanish test falls during second period, and after convening with Wes to accept a new sheaf of sheet music, he barely makes it to his third period class on time. With a careful eye on Mrs. Hermann, who’s monitoring the day’s study hall with an eagle eye, he flips his phone back on inside his bag, then sneaks it out and into his blazer pocket.

When he’s able to read what’s there, he sees one message that was sent while he was in Mr. Dunmeyer’s class, and one from about an hour and a half later.

From Kurt: _What if I’m also on a page where I wouldn’t entirely mind doing it again?_

From Kurt: _Oh god. Text message recall!_

Blaine breathes shallowly, schooling his face so that he doesn’t show any reaction even though his emotions and hormones are zipping around like crazy, surprise warring with relief and tinged with the first stirrings of arousal.

To Kurt: _Don’t recall it. We’re both on that page too._  
To Kurt: _But what about the equator?_

He keeps the phone in his lap, just in case, and it lights up a minute or two later.

From Kurt: _I don’t recall my hands getting anywhere near it last night_.

Blaine’s heart thuds dully. This is _not_ the conversation he’d been expecting to have, and he’s barely started formulating a response when two more texts arrive in quick succession.

From Kurt: _It doesn’t seem like they have to_.  
From Kurt: _We could test that theory_.

And yes, this conversation is not even in the same time zone as the one he'd thought they'd be having. It makes Blaine suck in a deep, sudden breath, which he tries to cover by coughing a few times, earning a handful of annoyed glances. Soon enough, though, everyone is engrossed in their work again, and he’s able to reply.

To Kurt: _On that page too_.

He squirms minutely in his chair when the message is gone, because his dick becoming noticeably aware that he and Kurt are discussing Kurt trying to make Blaine come again just from teasing his nipples. On purpose. Because Kurt wants to. Blaine shifts again, more dramatically this time, and his shirt rubs against the chafing on his chest. _Not helping_ , he scolds himself sternly.

There’s another message from Kurt: _I liked it_.

Blaine flushes from head to toe, wondering fleetingly if Kurt’s face is doing the same. He steals an anxious glance around the room to find that there’s nothing out of the ordinary going on, other than what's happening on the screen of his cell phone. Mrs. Hermann is looking at him a little suspiciously, so Blaine pretends to turn a page in his book and focus on reading for a few moments.

Under the table, he rapidly types: _Can’t keep talking now. Mrs. Hermann’s watching. Call you later_.

Kurt sends back: _Later_.

Blaine slips his phone back into his bookbag, almost vibrating in his seat.

*

The afternoon is awful, but in a wonderful way. Blaine had spent most of his morning classes sitting as still as possible, trying not to irritate the raw places on his chest. Now, after his conversations with Kurt, he can’t seem to make himself _stop_. He finds excuses to move in ways that make his undershirt scuff over his nipples: he stretches, he turns, he puts his bookbag on the floor and takes everything he needs out of it one item at a time. He gets himself so worked up in sixth period that he’s afraid he’ll have to find an excuse to stay sitting in his desk after the bell rings. The private school uniform will hide hard nipples, but not a hard cock.

_Kurt liked it and he wants to do it again._

_Not. Helping_.

He doesn’t get to call Kurt until that evening: there’s emergency-key-change Warblers practice after school (and thank god there are no choreography changes to practice or Blaine might have had to excuse himself), then dinner out with his parents and one of his father’s business associates. When he does finally connect with Kurt, they stumble nervously into too-long discussions about other things: school, New Directions drama, Kurt’s newest ideas for _Pip Pip Hooray_ and how much he can’t wait to get started on it.

Finally, when they reach a lull in the conversation, Blaine asks, “Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

“Should we… talk about it?” He’s lying flat on his back on his bed, staying all but motionless so that he’s not distracted.

He hears movement from Kurt’s end of the call, though, like he’s fidgeting. “Is there anything else to say?”

Blaine considers the question. He supposes that most things are out in the open, but he also doesn’t feel like everything they say about something this serious should be over text message. “I’m really glad you told me how you were feeling.”

“Me too,” Kurt says softly. He sounds like he’s smiling.

“You don’t ever have to be embarrassed to tell me things like that,” Blaine adds, even though it might be a little hypocritical judging by how hot his face feels now that they’re talking about… it.

“Neither do you,” Kurt rushes out. “I mean… you know there are things that I’m not… ready for. But when we do… if there’s things that you like, you should tell me. I mean, I had no idea…”

Blaine jumps in quickly as Kurt’s voice trails away. “Neither did I.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s as new to me as it is to you.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, sounding pleased. “Well… good.”

“Very good,” Blaine attests, and it makes them both giggle, high-pitched and bashful. There’s a beat of silence afterward, and Blaine realizes that he feels warmed down to his toes. Not because they’re talking about sex, but just because Kurt is wonderful, and Blaine can’t imagine anyone else he’d rather be figuring it all out with.

And speaking of figuring it out, he hasn’t forgotten what Kurt had said earlier. “So… next time we have the chance…”

“Yeah,” Kurt confirms. “Next time we have the chance.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Nipple play, masturbation, frotting, blink-and-you'll-miss-it comeplay, biting/marking. When I started this fic, I intended it to be largely canon compliant, but I probably wandered fairly significantly from that. Ignores real life Lima/Westerville geography.

Unfortunately, the next chance proves elusive. There are finals to finish, end-of-the-year parties to attend, Blaine’s parents take him out of town for a weekend, and someone quits at Hummel Tires and Lube, so Kurt offers to pick up a few shifts, and then a few more. There’s a largely unspoken agreement between them that this isn’t something they want to squeeze into the half hour before Blaine’s mother gets done with her volunteer shift or the last fifteen minutes before curfew. Not that they don’t do plenty of making out in those abbreviated times — and now they get to run their hands up under each other’s shirts while they do.

It’s not all bad: the bruises and bite marks on Blaine’s chest fade away, so he doesn’t have to worry about whether or not he’ll have to ask Kurt to hold back (he’s not sure if he would have or not). Their nervousness wanes too, leaving them more annoyed and impatient than anything else.

Then, suddenly, it all comes together: Carole’s cousin is getting married in Cleveland, and Burt reluctantly agrees to stay there for the night and leave Kurt, Finn, and Sam to their own devices — which isn’t to say that he goes without lectures and warnings. What he _doesn’t_ know is that Artie’s mother just installed a television that, by all accounts, is just slightly smaller than a movie theater screen, and that the video game marathon to end all video game marathons will be taking place the very same night, leaving Kurt and the house at loose ends. Blaine had been invited, but he’s only too happy to decline now. He doesn’t even care whether everyone else thinks he’s skipping out to fool around with Kurt.

Because he _is_. It’s amazing.

*

Instead of sitting around Kurt’s house and waiting for it to empty out, Blaine takes Kurt to Breadstix for dinner. It makes it feel more like a date night and less like a booty call, plus it means they get to escape the weird vibes emanating off of Finn every time he looks at either one of them. He’s not sure if the innuendos that Sam keeps tossing at them, each accompanied by a wink or a thumbs-up, are better or worse. Either way, they’ve left it all behind.

It’s one of the longest meals of Blaine’s life, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t enjoy it. The air is charged between them — Kurt’s cheeks are pink the entire time, and they brush their feet together under the table while they flirt innocently, talking through smiles that are hard to wipe off. Blaine barely tastes his food, Kurt skips cheesecake, and they both suck on mints during the drive back to Kurt’s.

The driveway is empty at the house, but just in case, Kurt calls out, “Finn? Sam? …Dad?” when they get inside.

Silence is the only response.

Kurt turns slowly back to Blaine, his brows arching high.

“Your room?” Blaine asks as his heart rate accelerates sharply.

“My room,” Kurt says.

They move with almost businesslike efficiency: Kurt hangs his keys on a hook near the door, and Blaine puts their leftovers in the refrigerator. They walk up the stairs to Kurt’s room — Kurt leads, and Blaine tries not to jump out of his skin. Kurt gestures politely for Blaine to go through the door first, and then he shuts it behind them both.

As much as he likes his own room, Blaine thinks that Kurt’s is gorgeous and soothing: it’s cool and clean and airy, a sometimes-refreshing contrast to his own bedroom, which seems dark and close by comparison. Blaine turns slowly around, letting his eyes wander over the familiar shelves and remembering the way Kurt had kicked him out just a few months ago for trying to talk to him about sex. And look at them now.

Standing practically on opposite sides of the room, with Blaine rubbing his neck while Kurt watches him owlishly from a spot near the door, all the nerves that had dissipated over the last few weeks are suddenly very much alive between them.

_Pull it together, Anderson_ , Blaine tells himself sternly. He sucks in and lets go of a deep breath, starting to move slowly across the room, because this isn’t going to go anywhere if they’re not even close enough to touch each other. He smiles as he walks — it’s a little forced at first, but it softens and grows as he gets closer. Because it’s Kurt, and he _loves_ Kurt, and they’re doing this together. Kurt’s face relaxes, and Blaine scoots right in close so that there’s barely enough room for the air of the room to sneak in between them, and then he angles his chin up and captures Kurt’s mouth in a sweet kiss. _This_ he knows how to do.

Kurt lets out a relieved breath through his nose, and that’s when he answers Blaine’s smile — Blaine feels it in the way Kurt’s lips tighten under his own. It’s still kind of choppy and nervous at first, but before long, their mouths are sliding together in the comfortable, languid way that they’ve spent so much time exploring and perfecting. Even though they’re not touching anywhere else, Blaine can feel the tension easing its way out of Kurt’s muscles, and when Kurt reaches for him at last, it’s with relaxed hands that slide around his back to tug him close. Blaine lifts his arms to loop them around Kurt’s shoulders and brings their bodies flush.

They lose long moments then, or at least Blaine does, forgetting to be tense under the wet heat of Kurt’s mouth and the strong press of his hands. No matter what they had planned, Blaine really doesn’t have to do anything more than this — it’s perfect — but just when he’s pulling back to say so, Kurt beats him to the punch. “Should we… get on the bed?” he asks, with just the tiniest shake in his voice.

“Okay,” Blaine whispers. “If you want.”

He cracks his eyes open to see Kurt nod, his face glowing with color, and he looks very much like he’s biting back a grin. Blaine can’t help but kiss him again, and he walks backwards toward the bed, holding both of Kurt’s hands loosely in his own. He sits abruptly down when he feels the edge of the mattress hit his legs, and then he’s not really sure what to do. Is he supposed to just pull Kurt down on top of him?

Before he can decide, Kurt perches beside him, and Blaine moves quickly to cup his cheek and kiss him again. It had worked last time to stave off the encroaching awkwardness, and it does again — at least for a little while, until Blaine realizes that he doesn’t know how to get from sitting on the edge of the bed to lying on it. Finally, he just leans away and pulls his legs up, shimmying toward the pillows. “I’m just going to…”

“Okay,” Kurt says breathlessly, crawling after him so that when they lie down, they’re each curved in toward the other, knees and ankles all twisted together. They exchange close-range smiles until Blaine rubs his cheek fondly against Kurt’s shoulder and then moves in to press his mouth again, firmer now but still tender.

It’s good like this, taking their time. Blaine’s doesn’t know if they’re procrastinating or just making sure that they’re comfortable at every step of the way, but ultimately, he doesn’t really care what the reason is. It feels intimate and sexual, and it warms him to the tips of his toes. He wishes that it could go on for days, just their mouths together while the rest of the world is far, far away.

It goes on for a good long while as it is, the kisses building gradually in intensity, until — before Blaine has even realized that things have gotten so heated — Kurt’s up on one elbow, leaning over him, with his tongue deep in Blaine’s mouth for him to suck on. His free hand skates up and down Blaine’s side, lightly at first, but then he presses in, dragging his hand all the way up to Blaine’s chest and rubbing firm circles into his nipple through his shirt. Blaine keens and strains up off the bed as the sensation of it floods through him, grabbing at Kurt’s shoulders and trying to pull him farther over his body.

Kurt removes his tongue from Blaine’s mouth and mutters, “Wait.”

“What?” Blaine asks, muzzy, pulling his eyes open.

Kurt gets a hold of Blaine’s shirt and inches it up. “This will probably have to go.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Will you take it off?” Kurt hurries the words out, the color on his face heightening noticeably.

And Blaine — kind of whites out. Apparently, everything that came before hasn’t quite prepared him to hear Kurt actually say the words _take it off_. He struggles to prop himself up and says, “No.”

“No?” Kurt’s voice is incredulous, bordering on hurt, and he pulls his hand back abruptly.

Blaine grabs it. “No!” he exclaims, probably too loudly, his heart thundering in his ears. “I… I want you to do it.”

Thankfully, Kurt’s fingers go lax in his grip. “Oh,” he says, sounding relieved. “Okay.”

They both sit up, and Blaine feels more ridiculous than anything as he raises his arms, but then Kurt’s hands are there, lifting the shirt up and away, and it only gets caught on Blaine’s ear a little bit. When it’s gone, Kurt digs his teeth into his lower lip and slowly lifts his own arms. It hasn’t escaped Blaine’s notice that Kurt had only worn two thin layers, and Blaine is more than okay with removing them.

Before he's even finished setting the shirts neatly aside, Kurt is pushing him back again, climbing over his body and caging him in with arms and legs. Like the last time, he’s hovering over Blaine instead of bringing their bodies together, but it hardly matters when Kurt is bringing his mouth down to kiss under Blaine’s ear and then skim his teeth over the lobe. It’s a dirty trick, but it works, because Blaine starts squirming into the bed while he runs his hands up Kurt’s arms and over his back, feeling the solidity of the muscle and bone under his skin.

Kurt doesn’t linger there. When he’s done, he dips briefly in for a kiss to Blaine’s mouth, then noses up under his jaw. He makes his way down Blaine’s neck, lingering here and there, but never doing anything that would leave evidence. Before long, he’s licking around a sweaty hollow at the base of Blaine’s throat, then continuing down. Kurt moves straight toward Blaine’s left nipple, a faster trail of sucking kisses.

Just before he reaches it, he stops and takes a deep, measured breath. Managing to trap his frustrated whine in his throat, Blaine tilts his head up just in time to see the tip of Kurt’s tongue snake out between his lips and tease ever-so-lightly over the spot. The touch is so delicate that Blaine can barely feel it, but the visual is enough to make his cock throb to painful hardness and shove him right into dangerously-turned-on territory.

Then Kurt pulls away to breathe again, a deliberate gust of air, and Blaine gets to watch as his nipple hardens, like it’s straining toward Kurt’s mouth. He drops his head back against the pillow with a groan, because _that was on purpose_. “God, Kurt,” he mumbles, and he glances back up just in time to see the curve of Kurt’s smile descending back toward his chest. Kurt takes the nipple almost daintily between his teeth, the pressure fleeting and not nearly enough, before releasing it with a kiss and moving to the other one. “Kurt…” Blaine whimpers, trying not to sound petulant without much success.

“Sshhh, just let me…” Kurt mutters, giving Blaine’s ribs a few soothing strokes with one hand. He’s rougher on the other side, but only marginally: he sucks a little this time, and worries the flesh with his teeth, but then he stops again.

Blaine twists his hips, bumping into the insides of Kurt’s knees and thighs, and he tries to settle in and ride out what Kurt has planned, because it’s obvious that he has one. He continues to shift back and forth from one side of Blaine’s chest to the other, the interval between each time that he switches growing longer as he bites harder, starts suckling instead of kissing, and gets sloppier and sloppier with his tongue. At first, Blaine tries to stay still and quiet, but it’s a losing battle from the start. He groans and pants, and it’s all he can do to keep his ass on the bed. He’s long since given up fisting his hands in the covers — one is digging into Kurt’s back and the other is heavy on his head, forcing Kurt to drag his mouth over the skin between Blaine’s nipples when he moves between them.

Kurt doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his breath is coming almost as hard as Blaine’s, and he’s eager in a way that Blaine has only really gotten hints of before. Blaine doesn’t even suspect that Kurt might be holding back until he pauses, hovering over Blaine’s skin, and asks, “What would be too hard?”

Blaine’s not sure if the question doesn’t actually make sense or if he’s just too far gone to understand it. “What?”

“How hard is too hard?” Kurt tries again, and he sinks his teeth firmly into Blaine’s nipple, rolling his jaw back and forth a little so that the bottom row scrapes. It’s the hardest he’s ever dared to bite, and it punches a sharp noise out of Blaine.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” Blaine says, when he’s able. “I haven’t figured that out.”

Kurt interrupts the soothing of Blaine’s nipple with his tongue to ask, “Figured it out?”

“You know,” Blaine pants. “When I — masturbate.”

“You…? Oh.”

“Of course I do.”

“No, I mean… you…” Kurt lifts a hand to brush his thumb over Blaine’s other nipple, then pinches it between his thumb and his forefinger. “…when you do?”

“ _Oh_. Yeah. Yeah, it feels really good.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, all air. He repeats the bite, and Blaine can’t help himself — he slides his hand up to Kurt’s temple to tug his head to the side and see what it looks like. Kurt’s eyes are closed, his face is smashed tightly against Blaine’s chest, and his lips are drawn back just enough so that Blaine can see the way his teeth are digging into Blaine’s flesh. Blaine moans, squeezing his eyes shut because the image — combined with the way it feels and the fact that Kurt is still squeezing and rolling his other nipple with his hand — puts him _right_ on the razor-thin edge of orgasm. His body stiffens and he bites out Kurt’s name.

Then, Kurt pulls back, leaving Blaine dangling and gasping. “You really can, just from this,” Kurt whispers, sounding awed.

“Yes,” Blaine grits out.

When Kurt stays still, Blaine cracks his eyes open to see him looking down at their bodies. “I didn’t think this through.”

“What?” Blaine asks, still hazy.

“Your pants,” Kurt says, and it doesn’t help Blaine get the dots connected. “I’m not ready to… and if you…”

“I don’t care about my pants,” Blaine rushes out, because he’s _achingly_ hard, and at this point he considers dirtying his clothes a small sacrifice to make.

Kurt stays where he is though, looking contemplative. “What if you took them off —”

“ _What_?” Blaine croaks, his body’s sudden approval of the idea almost tipping him over again.

“— under the sheet? With your underwear on.”

Blaine stares at him, kind of feeling like his eyes might fall out of their sockets.

“Oh god. You’re not wearing underwear, are you? Maybe this —”

“Kurt,” Blaine interrupts before he can really get going. “I am.”

With a sigh, Kurt sits up, resting his ass on Blaine’s knees, and it takes all the concentration that Blaine has to tear his gaze away from the way that Kurt’s hard (and big) underneath his couture pants. “Oh god,” Kurt groans, burying his face in his hands. “I’m ruining it. This is so not sexy.”

Blaine struggles to get his brain in gear and prop himself up on his elbows. “Kurt, this is the sexiest thing that has ever happened to me. _You_ are sexy.”

Kurt lowers his hands enough to peer over his fingertips. “I am?”

“You are. You are extremely sexy, and you make me feel amazing, and I love you, but I can’t get under the covers with you sitting there.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything, but the spark is back in his eyes, and in a flurry of motion, they get the duvet pulled back, shoving and kicking it down. Blaine scrambles under the sheet, undoing his pants as soon as he’s covered up and working them blindly down his legs. To his surprise, Kurt joins him underneath, situating himself back above Blaine’s body. Blaine’s lost some of his erection, but it doesn’t take Kurt much effort on Kurt’s part to renew his full interest and reduce him to writhing on the bed.

“Doing okay?” Kurt murmurs into his skin.

And Blaine blurts out, “I want you to come too.”

Kurt freezes, inching his mouth away minutely while Blaine cringes. He does (he really, _really_ does) — it’s been running around in the back of his mind ever since they started this discussion, but he never intended to say it out loud. At least not like this.

But Kurt just whispers, “How?”

“I — I have an idea about that,” Blaine says. “Roll over?”

Moving carefully so that the sheet doesn’t get dislodged, they reverse their positions. Blaine kisses Kurt once he’s settled against the mattress, taking a few moments just to appreciate the fact that Kurt’s underneath him ( _oh god_ ) before he pulls back. He'd mimicked the way that Kurt was keeping their bodies apart, but now, he slowly lowers his hips onto Kurt’s, watching all the while for any signs of distress on Kurt’s face.

There aren’t any. Kurt’s eyes fall shut and he pushes up against Blaine, moaning out a quiet “oh my god.”

And just like that, Blaine’s shaking from holding back. Kurt’s cock is solid and so hard against his, and he’s been teased for about as long as he can take. Kurt’s saliva is still drying all over his chest, and his nipples are raw and pointed, even though there’s nothing touching them anymore. He rolls his hips down again, wiggling to get a better angle, and Kurt arches up, and it feels a thousand times better than Blaine had even been imagining. So he does it again. And again. And Kurt cants up to meet him every time.

He wants to watch Kurt, because he’s never seen Kurt look like this — with his face flushed red and his mouth open and panting. He’s making quiet noises — whines and groans and little choked off sounds that are zapping straight to Blaine’s core, hastening the way his balls are drawing up and he is _so, so close_. He has to close his eyes then, just to try and hang on until Kurt comes too.

Which is why he doesn’t notice Kurt’s hands coming up until he feels both of his nipples get squeezed tightly at the same time, accompanied by a particularly hard thrust of Kurt’s hips. Blaine _jolts_ , and he comes in a series of stuttering jerks that drive his hips down against Kurt’s while he spills inside of his briefs. He’s only vaguely aware that Kurt goes completely stiff underneath him a few seconds later, and when he does realize what’s happening — alerted by the shuddering of Kurt’s body — he manages to look in time to catch the open, surprised curve of Kurt’s mouth, but it’s already mostly too late. And even though he just had a tremendous orgasm, he can’t help the threads of disappointment that coil through him because he missed the first opportunity he’s ever had to see Kurt come.

Still shaking, Blaine allows himself to collapse on the bed next to Kurt and burrow close into his side. Kurt wraps an arm around him, but otherwise stays where he is, his chest heaving. “Are you okay?” Blaine whispers.

“I’m good,” Kurt says, sounding dazed. He shifts around until they can see each other, but he doesn't look entirely comfortable when he's done, a slight frown on his face. “Oh god, I was so worried about _your_ pants...”

“I'm so sorry!” Blaine exclaims. “Oh my god, I didn't even _think_ —“

Kurt shushes him. “I, um, realized the danger, but... I didn't want to stop.”

Blaine blinks, his eyebrows shooting up. “You say things like that, and you expect me to think that you're _not_ sexy?”

Kurt's cheeks, which have only just regained something like their normal color, flush again. “That's not sexy!”

“That is _so_ sexy,” Blaine protests. “It's really hot.”

Kurt leans forward and he presses a messy kiss to Blaine’s forehead. “I… I really love you. Thank you.”

Blaine smiles and shimmies in closer to kiss him properly. The moment stretches on, warm and soft, until Blaine pulls back to say, “I love you too. Even if you don’t play fair.”

“What?” Kurt asks. He sounds so adorably muddled that Blaine almost giggles.

“You know my weak spot. Weak spots, I guess. Just wait until I figure out yours.”

Kurt arches an eyebrow. “You think I have weak spots?”

“I know you do, and I can't wait to find them,” Blaine says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Kurt just grins and kisses him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my betas, [Lindsey](http://controlofwhatido.tumblr.com/) and [Sandy](http://completelyunabashed.tumblr.com/), and thank you for reading! :)


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